


However scary

by Finnie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 02:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnie/pseuds/Finnie
Summary: "Hello, my dear." He slips into a chair oppiste of the doctor. "Long time no see.""Oh." The doctor looks up from his glass,  furrows his eyebrows. "You."





	However scary

the master wasn't looking for the doctor. not this time,  anyway,  and certainly not this version. it's not a body he's seen before,  but he recognizes the doctor immediatly,  as he always does.

you can't miss the doctor, really, even without the master's telephatic capacity. wherever the doctor walks,  timelines scream and tangle. he is such a disaster.

the master also almost immediately knows that this version is old,  older than him, older then his doctor. two thousand years old,  at least, and older than whatever he doesn't want the master to know.

(the master does not ask for spoilers,  but sometimes he meets the older versions of the doctor that are troubled, hurt and terror hiding in the folds of their eyes,  a look that makes him wonder. the master knows that whatever future brings for the two of them isn't nice at all.

he doesn't ask for spoilers,  though. he supposes he'll find out for himself.)

the doctor is sitting at a lonely table in the corner,  nourishing a glass of brown liquid in his hand, staring into empty space. the master wonders what brought him here - he himself isn't sure what brought him to the bar, the wish to sit somewhere where there's people,  but no one will try to talk to him,  or just an attempt to get drunk.  
well,  the doctor certainly isn't here for the drinks. he never could stand them. or perhaps that's changed with time,  too.

he wonders what to do with him. stage a fight,  maybe? play the game of murder? the thought dances in the back of his head for just a moment, and then he gingerly brushes it off. the doctor looks fragile,  like he'll snap in half if you touch him. he looks like a skeleton this time round, too wiry,  too pale, with tufts of puffy grey hair and large, light eyes. darting. panicked. a knot of tragedy somewhere in his head that even the master can't begin to unravel. he's not sure he wants to.

the master sighs deeply, downs his drink,  and comes over.

"hello, my dear." he slips into a chair opposite of the doctor. "long time no see."

"oh." the doctor's eyebrows furrow for a moment. the sound is too small, to quiet for comfort. "you."

"who else?" the master smiles bitterly. "you look horrible."

"thank you," the doctor scoffs. he makes a motion like he's going to reach for his glass, changes his mind. the liquor inside is untouched,  and the master mentally smiles a little.

"are you trying to get drunk?" he asks a tad mockingly. he's hoping,  he realizes,  to engage the doctor in an argument,  but he doesn't seem to be succeeding.

"that was the intention," the doctor sniffs.

"now,  now." the master gives a low chuckle. _come on,_ he probes. _you hate when I chuckle. tell me how much you hate it when I chuckle._

the doctor stares at him. whatever happens in this millennium and a half between them,  the master does not much like it.

"how long has it been for you?" the doctor blurts out of the blue. "since you've last seen me?"

"we've _just_ done the sea devils." the master smirks, glad to have at least something to say.

 _why the hell am I glad,_ he thinks,  and then,  _oh, I'm lonely,_ and then _I hope he didn't hear that._

"miss our little sword fights?" he adds, smirks.

the tips of doctor's lips twitch. he remains silent. against his better judgement, the master is concerned. the doctor should be snappy and bitchy,  not mopey and definitely not - yes,  alone,  and for a very long time.

"haven't you got any little human friends to play with?" the master means to sound mocking, but it comes out like scolding.

"she's.." the doctor waves a hand about like that's going to explain everything. "we've had a fight. i've recently regenerated,  and i don't think she.. likes me, much."

"idiot humans." the master spits. "can't see farther away from their nose."

"i-" the doctor  trails off. "miss.. company."

"miss me?" the master wiggles his eyebrows.

"yeah." the doctor finds it in himself to be at least a bit snarky. "certainly."

"oh,  come on." the master heaves a sigh. "what kind of an unpleasant monster do i turn into in the future?"

the doctor chuckles sadly. "spoilers."

"well,  i must admit that I'm not very fond of this future of yours either." the master huffs. no wonder the humans leave him. must be all fun and festivities. and yet,  he has a strange urge to comfort him that he can't quite explain.

"well, i will be off then,  if i'm not needed." he proclaims gravely,  stands up,  fixes his coat. "see you around, my dear."

"yeah." the doctor swallows. "sure."

the master raises an eyebrow and walks a straight line out of the bar, into the dimly lit alley,  stops by the lamp post.  he stands there a minute, illuminated by the dim yellow glow until he hears quiet footsteps behind his back.

the doctor is wrapped in a black overcoat that's too thin for the weather and his shirt is buttoned up wrong. wind ruffles his hair into a mess,  and his mouth is half open,  like he froze mid-sentence.

the master curls the tip of his lips, expectantly.

"you want to get into my tardis?" the doctor more mouths than whispers.

the master smiles. "sure."

.

the doctor isn't a good kisser this time around. almost as soon as the master shuts the tardis door behind them,  the doctor pins him against the console and kisses him desperately, clumsily, with his eyes firmly shut. it's awfully fumbling, and the doctor is never fumblring with him. the doctor usually has him wrapped around his little finger, but now he's shaking and it's uncomfortable and the master fights the urge to pull away.

instead,  he wraps an arm hesistantly around the doctor's waist (feels his bones through the coat) and runs the other through his hair. the doctor leans into the touch like nobody's laid a finger on him for centuries. maybe they haven't.

"stars, doctor." the master huffs when the doctor finally stops to catch his breath. "how long has it been since you've last seen me?"

the doctor tilts his head to the side, narrows his eyes. "eleven hundred years,  give or take a century."

the master blinks owlishly.

 _why haven't you come looking for me?_ he thinks loud enough for the doctor to hear.

the doctor's lips quiver. _why do you always leave me._

this time the master kisses him to shut him up. the doctor wraps his hands around the master's arms and in hindsight,  it looked like as if he was checking whether he was real. the master's back is pressed against the console,  and buttons are digging into his back. once upon a time,  he'd let the doctor fuck him against it, but they're far from young anymore.

the master stops him with a gloved hand against the doctor's chest.

"if you won't talk to me," he demands, "at least take me to the bedroom."

the doctor nods.

.

the master knows this bedroom, knows this bed. knows when it's unused. the doctor does not sleep often, he knows. he doesn't want to know what plagues him.

"are you going to murder me?" the doctor asks after kicking his boots off. the questions seems genuine,  so the master gives a genuine answer.

he pretends to consider it. "i don't think so."

good enough for the doctor,  apparently. he undressed himself quickly, efficiently,  without a pinch of eroticism. tosses the overcoat on the dresser, unzips the hoodie, peels away the shirt. layers, layers, layers. even when he takes everything off and all that's left is papery pale skin,  he still looks like he has a protective shell around him.

"let me help," the master offers out of frustration, or maybe pity. he folds the doctor's clothes and hangs them over a chair. half naked, the doctor looks strangely small. vulnerable, even.

the master could snap him in half if he wanted to. instead, he pulls him to the bed and presses a kiss into his throat.

"are you like this with everyone?" asks the doctor,  and simultaneously begins to unbutton the master's coat.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." the master helps with the coat,  flicks it to the floor.

"think about killing people while you're fucking them." the doctor rolls his eyes,  and creeps forward until he's terribly, terribly in the master's space.

"it's only you."

"you're only like that with me,  or you're only fucking me?"

"mmm. both."

the doctor scoffs.

"and besides," adds the master. "i wasn't thinking about murdering you."

the doctor yanks the master's zipper down. "liar liar pants on fire."

.

all in all, it's not the worst fuck they've ever had. on the physical level it's good enough to damage the fabric of space and time a little, but they can't risk mentally linking. there's too much that the doctor knows that he can't risk the master seeing. so many spoilers, so much trauma.

still. the doctor is quiet all the way through, his eyes are closed,  and he looks like a pile of bones on the grayish sheets. but when he comes he whispers the master's name,  quiet and breathy and unreal,  like something he's been carrying in his mouth for centuries,  and an influx of mental images slip from him and spill into the master's head,  a thousand stars exploding, a world tearing apart as two young men watch, a pyre in the middle of nowhere, lightning bolts, and many times over hands clad in black leather raking down the doctor's back, wrapped around him, in his hair, in his mouth.

the doctor is throughly and properly haunted. the master supposes he should be glad for it.

.

the doctor lays on his back afterwards, catching his breath, staring into the ceiling. their arms are not touching, but almost.

"you can come closer, you know." the master mutters. "i don't bite."

"don't you, now."

gingerly,  the doctor creeps closer. the master wraps an arm around him,  and the doctor buries his face into the crook of the master's neck. it's too domestic for comfort. normal things for normal people.

"you never let me cuddle after sex. honestly, what's your plan? if you're planning to attack me just give me five minutes. please?"

"i'm not going to attack you." the master isn't sure how to illustrate that, wether to tighten or loosen the grip.  
"seriously now, doctor, what kind of a monster do i turn into?"

"you can attack me, okay? just let me know before. i just want to lay a little."

" _doctor_." the master shushes him. he's bad at this, comforting his enemy. the doctor looks like he wants to talk. he's not supposed to. it's dangerous.

"don't kick me out just yet." the doctor says again, quietly,  and it's too much. he misses his doctor. misses the snappyness and the ego. the master never signed up to care for people. not yet,  anyway.

"i won't kick you out. it's your room."

"master." he whispers. "you can leave me, but tell me first."

"i won't leave you,  my dear." the master attempts to pat the doctor's head, a bit awkwardly,  but either the words or the gesture seem to put him to peace.

"you always leave me," says the doctor. after a while. "i know you won't change. but I miss you still."

there's something grim about hearing the words _i_ _know you don't change_ from someone who knows them with certainty,  even if the master has no intentions or interest in changing.

in the end,  he wonders if the doctor knows how many people he's murdered earlier today

in the end, he thinks about however little he thinks of the master,  in the moment the doctor seems to hate himself more.

.

the master does leave him,  but only after his breathing has stilled. he's not sleeping, just pretending to.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that other 12/Delgado fic.


End file.
